


First Snow, The

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: First Age, General
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-23 06:18:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3757644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Winter morning in Himring, the siege of Angband time. Short look at the world with bright grey eyes...</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Snow, The

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

He reached the top of the tower. Brisk, frosty air surrounded him. The landscape down the hill was covered with mist.  
Winter morning in Himring.  
  
And the first snow.  
  
The floor was already well sprinkled with delicate snowflakes.  
He wrapped his thick long shawl tighter around his shoulders and slowly put a bare foot on the snow. At first he felt nothing as his skin was still warmed with the bath. He followed with his other foot, nothing. A step forward. Still nothing. Silence. Calm.  
  
Slowly, he walked to the middle of the turret. Now he was starting to feel the chill and dampness under his feet, but still it was not unpleasant.  
Snowflakes were lazily drifting before his eyes. He wanted to reach out, to catch them, to hold them in his hand, but... He had only one hand. The attempts to hold his shawl with the stump nearly ended with the garment falling. All he could do was to reach out with the stump or...  
  
Turn his face towards the snow, as if towards the Sun.  
  
He closed his eyes. The first snowflakes talked to him gently about calm and then, falling gently, whispered about change. He started to daydream... If only he could stop time, catch this frozen drop of water so it would remain beautiful for ever...  
  


>   
> _Father, what jewel would you forge if you could capture a snowflake before it reached my face?  
>  How would you save the white frost gracing the world at dawn? Preserve a pattern embroidered with ice? _  
>   
> _Have you ever seen snow falling from the sky?_  
>   
>  _Any snow at all except that on the peak of Taniquetil?_  
>  Even in Araman there was none...  
> 

  
His thoughts were flowing slowly; the memory of his father was not painful, not this time, in the stillness of the morning.

>  _Stillness?_

  
Someone's fast steps could be heard on the stairs. He knew the rhythm. He smiled to himself, sure that in a while he would hear something about common sense. The snow under his feet slowly started to freeze his skin. The turret door opened gently, and the footsteps halted in the doorway.  
Without opening his eyes, he addressed his brother:

'Come out _filit_ , it's fine weather for contemplation.'

'Russandol, it is not wise! You will freeze if you stand naked there!'

Amused, he looked at his brother. 'I covered myself with the woolen shawl, what else would you desire? My feet will dry and my hair is still wet anyway.' He winked.

'Maitimo, you are insane.' Makalaurë wasn't giving up, although a smile replaced his solemnity. 'Come back to the baths and warm yourself. I cannot look at you standing barefoot on the snow.'

Maedhros sighed. So many times had he asked them not to use _this_ name... Why couldn't they understand his aversion to being _Maitimo_?

'Kanafinwë,' his voice was cold, 'if you cannot bear this sight, go back inside.' After a moment, seeing his brother's face, he added in a slightly warmer voice, 'Or join me here. Barefoot. You will see there is nothing to be worried about.' He smiled conciliatorily. 'And please, do not call me _Maitimo_ , it is not my name anymore, not with _this_.' He took his stump out from under the shawl.

'As you wish.' Makalaurë answered sadly and added with resignation, 'But now come back inside, Ambarussa have to set off soon if they are to make it before the storms. Surely you want to bid them farewell, don't you? Breakfast has already been prepared.' He turned away and went downstairs.

Ambarussa! It was the day! They were leaving with the first snow. Makalaurë would leave soon, too. They should stay, Himring was a safe place, and without them...

>  _Without them it would be sad._

  
In answer there came a frosty blow from the north, swirling the falling snowflakes and sprinkling them into his eyes.  
He went back following his traces. The snowy cover was almost intact, except for a few footprints of bare feet. In a while they would disappear.

He smiled to himself and went inside

_______________________________________

> I would like to thank Mot and Nellelórë for their great help with the English translation and Tehta for the final beta-reading of the English text. _Hantalë_! 

  


> **Notes** :

  
Reference to _The Glitter of metal_ by Ithilwen.

Meaning of the Quenya names [Sindarin name & Quenya names with nicknames ( _epessë_ )]:

Maedhros: _Maitimo_ \- 'well-shaped one' - a reference to his beautiful bodily form, mother name; _Russandol_ \- 'copper-top' - an epessë given in reference to his red-brown hair; _Maedhros_ (Sindarin) - 'Glitter of Metal', later changed into 'Well-formed (or shapely) Copper'.  
Maglor: _Kanafinwë_ \- 'strong-voiced or commanding', father name; _Makalaurë_ \- ' forging gold' - a poetic reference to his skill in harping, mother name.  
Amrod and Amras: _Ambarussa_ \- 'top-russet' - their mother name.

Source - J. R. R. Tolkien _The Shibboleth of Fëanor_ in _The History of Middle Earth_ volume XII.

 

 _filit_ \- _'small bird' (Quenya). An affectionate nickname Maedhros has given to his brother Maglor._ Epessë invited by Ithilwen.

 

 ** _Even in Araman there was none..._** Perhaps there was snow in Araman or in Losgar. For sure there was snow laying at the peak of Taniquetil in Aman. But was it falling down at the moment Fëanor was there? In my story - not ;)

 

 _hantalë_ \- 'thank you' (Quenya)

 

Szczecin, XII 2004 


End file.
